Early Years
by AshlandBarnes17
Summary: A graphic retelling of Jerome and Jeremiah’s childhood. (TW-Minimal swearing but heavy violence/abuse)
1. Ch1

The sun sets on Haly's Circus as the last few giant tent posts are hauled onto the trucks and the final caravans are unhitched. The performers all bustle about in their civilian clothes moonlighting as road crew, a hive of movement around the collapsing camp as they pack up to move towns.

Jerome had been half watching the sky's chameleon game as he had helped Uncle Zak pack down the chuck wagon. A shout soon knocked him out of his trance as Uncle Zak forced him forward into a stack of pots, a scrawny ten year old he was hugely outweighed by his obese uncle. "Get to work you worthless idiot!" Zak barked with a sneer.

Jerome hurried back to shifting the pots and pans into the wagon, taking a last glimpse towards the sun. He hefted crates into the wagon spotting Jeremiah scribbling in a note book just behind the trailer. Carefully he takes two big saucepans off the stack, checking Uncle Zak has left he creeps around the side and up behind his hunched over brother. He opens his arms wide still moving slowly to not make a sound, the pans outstretched. With a menacing grin he smashes the pans together as hard as he can millimetres from the back of Jeremiah's head.

"Shit!! What the.." Jeremiah falls awkwardly to the ground spilling pages all over the floor as he jumps a mile, "Jerome..what..why?" He fumbles around after the papers his initial anger turning quickly to slightly worried annoyance.

"Oh lighten up broth-er, you're always so tense." Jerome dances around laughing at his own trick with glee, "serves you right for not helping, getting out of all the hard work again you little snake." Jerome's joy flits to anger and back to amusement with a sly smile.

"You know they need me to do the books, it's not my fault everyone else here is a moron Jerome" Jeremiah picks himself up straightening with a little pride, an air of contempt in his voice. "Oh yeah, I forgot you're too clever to work or have any fun brother, too smart for the rest of us idiots right?" Jerome smashes himself in the head with one of the pans theatrically "Duh, ha ha ha!! Ow."

Jeremiah looks at him with distain, spotting Zak behind his still clowning brother he quickly moves back heading into the bustle of the camp mumbling under his breath with a smirk "see you later Jerome."

Zak comes up behind Jerome who is totally absorbed in his own performance, he catches one of the pans stopping the kid mid fake swing, "Oh, hi uncle Zak" he smiles tauntingly, "Guess I'm in for it now then, well what's new?".

Jerome tried to dart out of the way but the pan has already been brought down connecting hard with his skinny rib cage, a couple more hard bashes leave Jerome breathless and crumpled on the floor, Uncle Zak saunters off laughing, "Get up, we are ready to leave, don't tempt me to leave your pathetic ass behind." he shouts back as he swings the pan happily.

Jerome scrapes himself up and hobbles back to his mother's caravan defeated, the darkness draws in and the circus pulls away from the field in convoy. Jeremiah sits neatly at the trailer table, a secret smile as he notices his brother's bruises, Jerome looks out of the window clutching his ribs pretending not to see his brother's amusement. He'll get his later.

He feels sick inside as soon as he thinks it.


	2. Ch2

Day to day life in Haly's Circus suited Jerome, the nights were busy and hectic as the performers drew in the locals of each new town with their wild and wonderful acts, but this meant the days were quiet and left the young outcast with a wealth of time to himself.

So naturally he decided to find Jeremiah.

As usual he could be found hidden away in a crawl space beneath their mother's caravan, his lean body curled up behind the box containing his mother's beloved snake, a favourite hideout from his family and the rest of the circus folk. He fiddled with a piece of paper, turning it and flippantly folding it doodling along the creases with a red pen with little care or concentration.

"Hi there Jerome." He speaks casually without looking up as the lean boy appears squatting under the axel behind him, he is light footed with his fragile frame but Jeremiah can always sense his presence for some reason. He crawls over him in the confined space pulling himself into a crossed legged position opposite his red headed twin, his back leant against the glass of the snake tank.

The pair sit quietly, Jerome taps lightly on the glass as the head of the giant serpent bobs gently towards him, he blows exaggerated kisses at the scaled face and gets a little more comfortable in the dirt.

Still fiddling carelessly with his paper Jeremiah throws a glance at his guest "Nice shiner," he speaks flatly with little show of concern or surprise. Jerome tips his head forward a little allowing his straight hair to drop forward unconvincingly hiding the fresh purple bruise around his left temple.

"Wanna have some fun?" Jerome looks at Jeremiah expectantly as he changes the subject but he ignores him and continues fiddling, pretending not to notice his request.

"What's that your meddling with?" He says nosily snatching at the edges but Jeremiah does not bite.

"It's just a maze I'm making, you wouldn't understand."

Jerome loses interest in the maze and throws it back down to the floor, "You know what, lets go and have some fun now, what do ya say? I'm hungry, fancy hitting the Chuck Wagon?" He peers at his brother with a theatrically sad face as he rubs his stomach.

Jeremiah looks at Jerome with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Well it is Snicker Doodle day, and you do owe Uncle Zak a little pay back, come on let's go!" Jeremiah crawls out followed by an ecstatic Jerome.

The Chuck Wagon is a huge silver trailer with rounded sides and a large hatch on the side for serving the circus workers their main meals. The hatch is currently closed and Uncle Zak can just be seen through one of the small windows chopping and preparing for the lunch time service. He wears a white vest and a dirty apron, sweat collecting on his ginger goatee in the heat of the kitchen.

The two boys cower behind the strongman's trailer opposite a painting of a large man with the name 'Lunkhead' underneath adorns the side of the vehicle, his image standing proud in a leopard print leotard holding two giant dumbbells. They creep around the strongman's trailer just out of view of the Chuck Wagon windows, huddling close. They stop both bent over hidden slightly by the last wheel arch.

Jeremiah goes to lean forward to take a peak but is forced back hard by Jerome's forearm as he pushes him back against the trailer.

"Ow, watch it." He screws up his face but allows himself to be held back as Jerome puts his finger to his lips with an angry look.

Jerome peeks fractionally round the metal of the wheel arch and watches Zak chopping away, the grotesque man makes the boy feel nauseous, the deep seated hate bubbling away inside. He catches Jeremiah looking at him with a vague air of concern on his usually uncaring face, he forces the anger deep down and plasters a wide grin across his face and winks at his brother trying to disguise Uncle Zak's effect on him.

The look seems to do the trick as Jeremiah begins to grin back with a menacing smirk.

Jerome watches for a few minutes, the two youths holding their positions silently, eventually the fat chef turns to retrieve something from the far side of the Chuck Wagon turning away from the window. Jerome does not hesitate, grabbing little Jeremiah by the fabric of his sweater with one firm hand and pulling him in a quick dash across the space between the trailer and the metal Chuck Wagon. He almost throws him down against the steel under the window just in time as Zak promptly returns to work.

The pair crouch motionless, backs pressed hard against the Chuck Wagon both looking up to the window even though they can no longer see inside. Jerome tilts his head to angle his ear up to the slightly open window listening carefully to the chop, chop, chop escaping through the greasy frame.

Jeremiah looks at Jerome, watching the concentration on his freckled face waiting for a signal. The chopping suddenly stops and Jerome can make out the familiar sound of the cutlery drawer opening and a hand fumbling around the knives and forks. He turns to his twin giving him a little nod, he knows the drill, Zak stashes his cigarettes in the cutlery drawer and would soon be leaving the wagon to go on his cigarette break.

Sure as anything moments later they feel the gentle rock of the wagon as Zak's hefty body stomps down the steps out of the back, they wait a few moments and shuffle silently to the front of the vehicle. Jerome climbs up nimbly onto the tail bar and eases himself slowly higher to take a peek through the large window above. He waves Jeremiah up and he carefully places his feet just in front of Jerome's so they share the tiny space of the tail bar and pushes himself up to the window, his back touching Jerome's front as they balance. Stood this close it is obvious to see how thin Jeremiah is compared to the stockier young red head, despite their shared age.

The excited pair peep through the glass from their balanced perch, each with a playful excitement on their face adrenaline pumping through their veins, Uncle Zak is visible out the back door some 25 feet away smoking a cigarette with his back to the interior. Jeremiah gestures over to the nearby work surface where a tray of oat flapjacks stand cooling.

Jerome reaches over his brother's red hair and gently pops the window open, they both freeze at the tiny noise but Zak remains undisturbed. Jerome lifts the window out further and agilely climbs through, delicately manoeuvring around his partner in crime as he does. He pulls himself onto the counter into a crouch and lowers himself down to the floor silently, swiftly he gathers a handful of flapjacks handing them back out of the front window to an eagerly awaiting Jeremiah.

Jerome and Jeremiah share a mischievous smile, the ginger thief begins to head back, taking a last glimpse to check his Uncle is still out back, he notices a red spotted tea cloth draped over a mound on a counter nearer the middle of the kitchen and stops his retreat, now intrigued by the mystery food. Jeremiah shakes his head and beckons for him to come back but Jerome just smirks at his cowardice and begins to tip toe towards the cloth. He makes it undetected and lifts up the material apprehensively, a gleam of joy swells across his pale face as tray of warm snicker doodles are revealed.

Zak takes another deep drag on his cigarette and Jerome grabs a few of the cookies, slowly he heads back to Jeremiah the warm cookies grasped in his hands and a look of pride as he smiles to his accomplice raising his eyebrows cockily. The cautious twin mimes hurry up and Jerome makes it to the front and begins to carefully clamber onto the counter, just as he starts to turn to start his escape Zak coughs a loud tarred choke making Jerome jump, this tiny flinch sees his foot move just slightly and clip a metal sugar shaker that rests on the side. As if in slow motion the criminal pair helplessly watch the shaker topple off the counter and hit the floor, the clatter like a siren in the silent kitchen wagon.

Jerome grimaces, not a look of fear but a dark knowing of what will come, he lunges out of the window striking fast as viper towards Jeremiah, pushing him hard off the trailer tow bar sending him flying. He looks up at him, helpless, and inches back towards him but his face flares with rage as he mouths the words 'GO! HIDE!' with a terrifying anger that Jeremiah dare not disobey, so he runs.

Jerome turns his body on the counter and Zak is already standing next to him, an evil wide smile pulled taught across his face. The boy jolts towards the open window, he has to at least attempt an escape but the shovel like hand of Zak grabs hard at his skinny ankle, a hard tug back and the red headed boy hits the floor of the Chuck Wagon with a thud. Jerome instinctively puts his hands up to deflect a barrage of punches; he feels one land particularly firmly on his eye socket and instantly finds it much harder to see. The fists keep beating at his face and body, Jerome blocks what he can until the fat sadist finally slows and stops, the boy waits, knowing better than to make any sudden moves.

Panting, Zak raises up to tower over the battered and bruised boy laughing as Jerome cowers still in a protective ball.

"Stealing again are we nephew? You little shit, you never learn huh?" Zak wipes the sweat from his brow with his reddened knuckles and bends down grabbing Jerome by the throat "Well what shall I do with you now then? Gotta teach you a lesson don't I, can't say as I don't enjoy it though Jerome."

Zak drags the injured boy up by his throat choking him as he does, Jerome grabs uselessly at his Uncle's strong hand as he splutters and coughs, blood from his busted eye and lip pouring down his purple blotched face. The merciless chef drags the boy down the length of the Chuck Wagon halting at the stove where various pots bubble and steam cooking away.

"So, are you hungry Jerome? Maybe you think you can just take what you want? Well let me see if I can't stem your appetite a little?" Zak uses his free hand to waft the steam from the nearest bubbling pot into his face, pulling a delighted look of approval, "Oh yes, chicken stock, this should do the trick don't you think nephew?" with this Zak pulls the boys face down into the steam, holding him inches away from the bubbling liquid, Jerome squirms in panic while Zak laughs heartily at the boys dread. Zak pulls the child's head back sharply still gripping his now aching throat tightly.

"You are a useless kid Jerome, a bloody embarrassment to your poor mother, a pathetic little worm, and it gives me great pleasure to do everyone a favour and teach your sorry as a lesson or two." Zak spits venomously into Jerome's face with real hatred. Jerome musters his last ounce of self respect and in that moment stops fighting and spits right in his Uncle's greasy face, a giant globule of saliva and blood landing smack into the man's fat face, a proud smile leaking wide across his young battered face revealing his blood soaked teeth, an unsettling cackle defiantly escapes from his restricted throat.

Zak stands seething clearly thrown by his nephew's lack of fear, he furiously wipes the spit and blood from his face as the boy continues to laugh uncontrollably in his grasp. Jerome catches a glimpse of red locks lurking by the back door of the Chuck Wagon over his Uncle's shoulder, but just then Zak seems to make a decision and grips Jerome's wrist with his free hand, lifting the boy up by his throat he moves him to the pan of chicken stock holding the kids hand above the bubbling liquid. Jerome tenses trying to hold his hand back as best he can but he feels the spits of boiling liquid splatter on his skin as bubbles pop next to his hand. He looks his Uncle straight in the eye, defiant and enraged, for the first time he refuses to be a victim even if he can't win.

Zak stares back with a heartless grin and without breaking eye contact forces his nephew's hand into the boiling liquid. Jerome wants to scream with every inch of his body but he looks straight at Jeremiah and grits his teeth growling beneath, with every ounce of self control he refuses to scream, he will not cry, he will not give Zak the satisfaction. Jeremiah stares back deep into Jerome's eyes, no pity, no sympathy, but a dark understanding, he seems to turn off emotionally as if the violence is all too normal, but this is what Jerome needs as he disengages from the pain taking his mind somewhere else until the moment is over and Zak throws him to floor.

"Now get out!" Zak kicks Jerome as he scrambles out of the back door holding his scolded hand to his chest.

Jerome runs through the camp and into the back of the big top tent, it is dark inside and the animals can be heard from their pens, he heads straight for the elephants in the gloom at the back and thrusts his hand deep into their giant water trough, panting and grimacing at the stinging cold.

He collapses next to the trough keeping his hand submerged, his breathing starts to slow down as he calms, he knows Jeremiah is there in the dark. His twin shuffles out slowly taking a seat next him on the ground. They sit there silently for a while, Jerome eventually turns his uninjured hand towards Jeremiah opening up his palm to reveal two slightly crumbled snicker doodles. He takes a cookie and they sit there in the quiet darkness and eat.


	3. Ch3

Gotham, a sprawling island of depravity and misery, Jerome had always been somewhat of a fan, in one way it made him feel a little better about his own life seeing the depths of suffering in the city and secondly it always meant he got a break from his tiresome mother. Haly's Circus frequented the city annually and always stayed for a number of weeks. The circus had arrived the night before so Jerome knew it would not be long before he saw the back of his mother, he just needed to be patient.

The twins sit at the caravan table, Jeremiah sketching away on a pile of papers; Jerome laid out casually opposite playing with a rusted old Swiss Army Knife with his bandaged hand. Jerome pretends not to watch their mother frantically rushing around the bedroom area at the back of the caravan, she pulls out a large shiny handbag and begins to stuff things in, a shawl, a purse, a pair of underwear. The women is dressed in a tight floor length dress made of a wet look green snake skin, with a large split to expose her fishnet clad legs and a plunging neckline.Her pale skin accentuates dark eyes thickly covered with green sparkly eye shadow and dark liner.

Pulling on a worn yet extravagant green fur coat the brunette approaches the table and speaks directly to Jeremiah.

"I'll be back late sweetheart so don't wait up" Jeremiah flashes a tiny smile and nod of acknowledgement without taking his eyes off his drawing.

"We'll miss ya Lila, play safe with those nasty boys ey." Jerome speaks sarcastically as he flicks the little knife in and out.

Lila stomps over snatching the knife out of his hand "You little shit, how dare you speak to me like that?" Lila's eyes burn into the boys with an unmistakeable hatred, "Why don't you make yourself useful for once and tidy this place up, scrub the toilet, that's all you're good for anyway."

"Oh don't worry Mother, I'm sure I will find some way to amuse myself while you're gone" Jerome naughtily casts his eyes over to his brother licking his lips and blowing him a kiss, Jeremiah shudders with a grimace averting his eyes out the window.

Lila slaps Jerome hard, bringing his gaze back to her sharply, she thrusts the knife towards her son turning it and pressing it against the underside of the boys chin, Jerome moves up a little to avoid being cut but keeps a defiant grin across his face, pleased with his mother's reaction, he looks his angered mother right in the eyes, the blade tip stinging his flesh teasingly.

"You touch him Jerome, and..and I will kill you!" she pushes the blade a little higher forcing up Jerome's chin causing him to sit up even straighter, "Jeremiah told me what you did on his birthday last week, held the cake knife to his throat, how does it feel now it's you Jerome?" She slowly lowers the knife steadying herself, as her breathing slows she tosses the blade onto the table turning to leave.

"Don't you mean OUR birthday Mom? Where was my cake? Knife to the throat hey? That what he told you? Interesting..." Jerome's tone is mocking and provoking and fire burns in his eyes but his mother now ignores him.

"I haven't got time for this now Jerome, Uncle Zak will be watching you, just give him an excuse to teach you another lesson, I dare you." The boy's mother pats herself down and fluffs up her dark curls, she catches and strokes Jeremiah's distracted face as she passes him leaving the caravan into the dark of the night without another word.

A few minutes pass and Jerome begins to edge closer to his brother mischievously, Jeremiah pretends not to notice but his discomfort is obvious, each flinch an amusement to his chuckling brother. Jeremiah's natural tenseness a striking contrast to his brother's ease, his body language smooth and confident, an unmistakable carelessness conveyed with every move. He finally sidles right up to his brother, Jeremiah pulling back but still trying to focus on his work.

"What ya doin?" Jerome sing songs his question snatching a paper from the pile "Not this boring maze again brother?"

"Hey, leave it alone Jerome!" Jeremiah grabs back the scribbled maze from his brother's bandaged hand.

"Hey, hey, hey big bro, I was just looking, so touchy" Jerome flicks his brother in the ear as he speaks making him cower.

"Screw you Jerome, just leave me alone, go do something useful like Mom said." Jeremiah gathers his papers and stomps away from the table, pushing his thick rimmed glasses back up his nose as he does.

"Why do you always side with her? She's not coming back later, you know that right, three day extravaganza I'd expect. Whore." Jerome stabs the little knife hard into the table making Jeremiah jump, venom in his voice.

"Well at least she sees you for what you are Jerome, just plain bad, there's something wrong in you, everyone sees it, you are rotten to the core." Jeremiah backs away with his comment but Jerome leaps across the table agilely closing the distance between them grasping his shrinking brother by the back of the neck pushing his grinning face nose to nose with Jeremiah.

"Oh yeah?" Jerome's tone is deep and poisonous, unsettling juxtaposed with his smiling face, "Well you have to share a room with me, maybe you should watch what you say, might keep you safer in your sleep don't you think?" Jerome spits his words and lingers nose to nose for a threatening moment.

Jerome releases his brother knocking his papers down as a final insult before walking out, swiping up his knife from the table as he does.

He decides that he is now officially at odds with his twin and therefore has to find amusement and companionship with another being for a good while. That'll teach Jeremiah how good it is that he has him around.

The only other person his age in Haly's Circus is Sadie, an odd girl with blonde tangles. Her caravan was only a couple of minutes away, about halfway to the Circus's edge. He hadn't seen her in a bit, but she'd do.

Sadie's caravan was run down, the white exterior stained and dirty through years of neglect, now a nicotine colour with rusted holes. Jerome sits patiently in the dark, he can see Sadie's window, a string of red fairy lights glow against the dirty glass, he waits until he sees Alphonse, Sadie's father, leave the caravan. A large unshaven man, he swigs from a bottle encased in a brown paper bag as he heads towards the mess tent to join the other clowns for a familiar night of drinking.

Jerome sneaks over to the window reaching up to tap on the glass, Sadie appears and slides the window open. Jerome reaches up to hold the bottom edge of the window pulling himself up and climbing through the little opening.

"Hullo again." She coos at him.

He clambers onto Sadie's little camp bed on the other side of the window and plops himself down sliding the window closed behind him. He picks ups a stuffed unicorn and leans himself back comfortable in the little room. "Hiya."

Sadie's room is little bigger than the bed itself, just a thin space to walk down the side of the cot like bed, a tiny desk sticks out of the wall at the head end of the bed, a clutter of sketchbooks and pencils cover the small surface. The tattered little girl has her sketches adorn the wall all around the head of the bed, scratchy images of sad clowns and monkeys with abnormally large teeth. A row of battered cupboards sit along the top of the wall making the space feel claustrophobic and dark, the only light from the tiny fairy lights and a faded colored night light in the shape of a clown stuck to the wall.

Sadie takes a pink box out from under the bed and takes a seat cross legged on the bed opposite her new visitor. Jerome leans over the edge of the bed and presses play on the old scratched Ipod he noticed was on the floor, some angry female rock vibrates out of two speakers laid on the floor. "Huh, not exactly my type."

Sadie shrugs and opens said pink box, rummaging through the contents. She takes out a little bandage and some antiseptic cream she reaches for Jerome's injured hand, he instinctively pulls it back.

"None of your concern, you freaky little ragamuffin."

Sadie gives him a scowl and snatches his hand up into hers with a little less care than she should. Jerome tuts but ultimately lets her take his hand. The shabby girl unwraps the dirty cloth revealing the scolded flesh below, her touch now oddly gentle as she applies the cream and binds the hand in the clean bandage. She finishes up and packs the box away.

"Fighting with your brother again then?" Sadie asks as she picks up a comic book from beneath her mattress.

Jerome sits playing with his knife, pretending to murder the unicorn comically.

"Yep..." Jerome thrusts the knife into the unicorn's throat, a shower of fluff bursts out, Sadie laughs but takes the unicorn and tucks it away behind her back.

"He says I'm bad, like there's something wrong with me? But he's just as bad, shady little liar." Jerome peers out of the window back towards his own caravan.

"Your darkness is what makes you interesting, makes you free, people are all bad really, to a degree. We are just products of our tiny worlds..." her voice trails off.

Jerome nods, pretending to understand her nonsense. At least she isn't boring.

"Besides," She starts again loudly, making Jerome jump. "if you are bad then so is he, you're twins, same make-up, same blood running through his veins, same brain." Sadie speaks into her pages.

Jerome rolls over again to turn up the volume, so he doesn't have to listen to her musings. Beside the door he spots a suitcase, it's fully packed and he sees what he recalls is Sadie's favorite jacket on top of it.

"You going somewhere Sadie?" Jerome skips the song a few times trying to sound flippant.

"Maybe, what do you care?"

"Don't."

"Good, just think I might get out of here for a while you know. My Mom won't come and find me maybe I'll go find her you know?" Sadie buries herself into the comic trying not to look at him.

"Yeah, why not." Jerome says, only just remembering that she'd mentioned her absent mother before.

BANG! The outer caravan door slams.

"Shit!" Jerome jumps up and slides the window open ready to make a quick exit but a giant sweaty hand gets him by the scruff of the neck and drags him back.

Alphonse is built stocky and strong, he drags Jerome backwards into the main room of the caravan. Dishes and clothing are scattered about smashing and ripping as the struggling boy clutches at walls and furniture. Alphonse pushes Jerome to the floor and punches him square in the jaw, adding to the healing bruises left by Zak.

"Dad! Stop it, he hasn't done anything!" Sadie shouts helplessly in the background.

"In my little girls room heh? You filthy...no good...rat!" Alphonse lays down a punch with each foul insult, his breath reeks of alcohol and cigarettes as he batters on Jerome.

Jerome fights and squirms but his adolescent body is no match for the drunken might of the clown. Sadie appears next to her Dad and swings a frying pan, hitting her father straight in the back of the head, Jerome can't help but laugh a little at the comical site.

"What the ...you brat!" Alphonse pauses for just a moment, Sadie stands there frozen still holding the pan.

He releases Jerome momentarily and lashes out a hard, violent backhand. Sadie's tiny frame is thrust sideways, she drops the pan with a clatter. Her head hits the wall of the caravan as she slumps to the floor.

"I'll deal with you later!" the words slur out of Alphonse's disgusting drunk mouth.

Jerome's eyes narrow, anger bubbles in his gut. From his disadvantaged position on the floor he takes the only shot he can, he thrusts his foot, hard as he can, into the clown's crotch.

Alphonse barks in pain and falls to his knees, tears in his eyes. Jerome pulls himself up quickly, panting with throbbing injuries and adrenaline, he takes out the little knife and holds it up to Alphonse's chin forcing the man to look up at him.

Jerome just smiles contemplating how it would feel to thrust the knife into the man's hateful flesh, he twirls and twists the blade until a drop of blood trickles down the sharp edge, a sense of pure power surges through him, a feeling of pure enjoyment like he has never felt before, he forgets the bruises and aches just for a moment.

"Well ya gonna kill me or what boy?" Alphonse coughs out his words still coiled over, his fear obviously fading much to Jerome's disappointment.

"Not today Al-phonse," Jerome takes the knife putting it into his pocket. Alphonse begins to chuckle derisively and Jerome pulls back mirroring the clown's chuckles theatrically only to push forward and strike the knelt man with a severe head butt. It knocks him to the floor, "Not today clown, but someday."

Jerome turns to where Sadie had fallen but the girl has gone, he peeks through her bedroom door, the window still open blows the little curtain at the side back and forth.

He looks down to the floor, the jacket and suitcase are gone.

Shame.

He rips a particularly dark looking clown portrait from the wall, grabs the injured unicorn from off the bed, and jumps out the little window into the night.

He spots her tiny figure just bouncing out of his own caravan before running away towards the moon...towards Gotham.


	4. Ch4

Jerome cannot help but swagger back towards his home in Lila's caravan, he stuffs the folded clown drawing into his back pocket and tucks the unicorn under his arm as he retrieves the little knife from his jeans. Something had changed in him during his altercation with Alphonse...he could feel it. He had felt the shift in his brain, an electric connection building a new idea as the power had shifted towards him with one little threat by a knife.

Jerome had received countless beatings throughout his childhood, each a reminder of his place at the bottom of the pile in Haly's Circus, he often managed to retain a shred of dignity with a defiant smile or by hiding his pain but never had he been able to turn the tables and gain the upper hand. Alphonse's face as he had first placed the blade to his chin had been one of true fear, a shudder of enjoyment pulses through Jerome's body at the memory. He feels the knife in his hand, the tiny rusted blade now feeling so powerful, hot under his touch, he looks at the tiny implement in amazement, how could something so small be so significant?

Approaching the snake dancer's caravan Jerome can see the lights are mostly extinguished, a small glow from a desk lamp can be seen through the smallest window at the end, the twin's bedroom window. Jerome lets himself in through the main door, inside is dark and quiet, creeping along the narrow corridor he opens his bedroom door quietly. Jeremiah is slumped over a pile of papers on the bottom bunk, pen still in hand, Jerome grits his teeth still holding onto some anger from their argument earlier. He throws the unicorn onto the top bunk, looking down at his little blade he contemplates for a moment or two, he edges closer to his sleeping brother knife pointed out. He gets in real close, ducking to avoid the top bunk, Jerome moves the Swiss army knife blade closer and closer towards his motionless brother taking at all the way to his temple, he holds it millimetres from his brothers skin twisting and turning the blade imagining how it would feel to make contact, the rush of adrenaline is phenomenal.

Jeremiah lets out a sudden sigh in his sleep, Jerome jolts back and tucks the knife away quickly, heart racing he steadies himself and gently re-approaches his brother, he glances at the knife but changes his mind, he pulls up the blanket to cover him carefully instead and removes the black rimmed glasses from his still face with a strange tenderness. With a perplexed exhale of breath Jerome jumps up onto his top bunk, he lays himself moving the sad looking unicorn to the side of his pillow. Settling his head down Jerome stretches moving one hand underneath the head rest feeling a hard lump under his sheets he did not expect. He pulls it out from under him. It seems he has retrieved a small hard parcel wrapped in handmade wrapping paper adorned with hand sketched clown faces and balloons all tied with string.

A tiny card made from a roughly cut section of some old packaging is attached, the colourful lettering of some confectionary product just visible on the back. Jerome fingers it open and reads the note inside.

To Jerome:

Sorry I have to leave for a while, hopefully one day I'll see you again.

Sadie Lloyd

Jerome unties the string and rips away the paper revealing a small black diary; a pink and blue glittery bejewelled ice cream cone decorates the front glistening in the lamp light. Sadie has stuck pink and purple glitzy letters all around the cornet spelling out Jerome. The boy can't help but smile; letting out an inaudible chuckle.

He takes out the clown drawing unfolding it he smoothes out the creases and carefully tucks it into the back of the diary. He turns the pages of the little book closed as he leans over, pulling a tiny light switch next to his bed to turn off the lamp above the desk.

———————————

Jeremiah had been such a bore, huddled away in their room for the last few days working on his stupid puzzles whilst Lila had been away in Gotham. Jerome had tried to keep himself busy but it was hard now he had to avoid Alphonse as well as Uncle Zak. He had spent most of his time with the animals, his main job in the circus was mucking out the elephants and horses and most people avoided the enclosures due to the smell allowing Jerome a modicum of peace and sanctuary from his growing enemies. He sits atop a huge bale of hay just inside the stripy tent wall, holding the ice cream diary open scribbling intently onto the page with his red pen.

Jerome did not exactly miss Sadie, but he did miss someone to talk to besides his confusing brother. So the diary had been a welcome distraction to offload some of his constant stream of thoughts. Jerome had always been plagued with a tirade of thoughts, an unrelenting barrage of ideas, urges, obsessions he had trouble organizing; making it hard to think straight at times.

He had found it somewhat cathartic to write this brain chaos down. Jeremiah had always found it so easy to focus his overactive brainwaves into his studies, pleasing their mother no end.

He had already filled a number of pages in the diary, sometimes with notes and often with little doodles and drawings when he could not write his visions fast enough. A mix of day to day opinions about the world interspersed with anecdotes about elephant dung and deep dark ideas for payback. Jerome had been filling a double page dedicated to his brother Jeremiah, a subject that pulled the boys mind in infinite directions.

A crude sketch of his brother sat across the crease of the pages with a doodled maze behind that filled the pages all the way up to the edges, each corridor filled with writing weaving in and out of the many routes. Angry hateful words mixed with feelings of jealousy and admiration, small fantasies of hurting his brother, dragging him behind the chuck wagon, shooting him out of a canon, setting him on fire overlapped with meaningful memories and the occasional I love you. Jerome stops to admire his handy work then adds a final clown face to the drawing of his brother giving him a forced smile.

"She's back." Jeremiah skulks out from the darkness, Jerome snaps the book shoot swiftly and hops down from the hay making his brother jump.

"Relax Jeremiah, I'm not gonna hurt you, thought about it ... sure... but ya know I love ya really. We could be unstoppable if you just let go a little someday." Jerome ruffles his brother's hair much to his Jeremiah's discomfort.

"She a mess I take it then?" Jerome rolls his eyes knowingly.

"She..she's just a little tired" Jeremiah defends her unconvincingly.

"Hung-over Jeremiah, I think you mean hung-over." Jerome states sarcastically relishing the death stare he is given in return, "Well I have a sudden overwhelming desire to go and listen to some death metal in our room...loud, so I'll see you later."

Jeremiah goes to pull Jerome back as he leaves and knocks the book from his hands, "Just leave her, she'll be worse if you antagonise her Jerome," he instinctively picks the fallen book and goes to pass it back to his brother, "Hey, what is this? Is this what Sadie left for you the other day? Is it a diary?" Jerome snatches the book back.

"Yeah, my super secret princess diary, full of secret wishes and dreams, so hands off mister." Jerome playfully hits Jeremiah in the head with the book and continues to leave, skipping and whistling with the thoughts of punishing his mother.


	5. Ch5

Sadie had not been seen since the night of Jerome and Alphonse's fight, the Lloyd family was made up of the large clown troupe in the circus and they had half heartedly banded together to look around the city for the young girl, but the search had lasted little more than a few days and fizzled out quickly when no leads were found. The only Lloyd who even seemed to care was Mary, the teenage cousin of Sadie, a pretty brunette who had always seemed to Jerome unnaturally kind for a Lloyd. The girl had been out into the city every day with a little scrappy picture of Sadie asking around hopefully, but even she had had no luck. She had at one point approached Jerome to come with her and help, he had declined, Jerome respected Sadie's escape and her right to get lost if she wanted.

Lila had been her delightful self during the Gotham run of shows, returning in a usual bad mood from her "trip". She had lashed out more at Jerome's taunts dealing out extra punches and slaps whenever she could catch the slippery boy. Luckily her day drinking impeded her aim and Jerome had escaped with minimal injuries on most occasions.

Towards the end of the three week stay in the depraved city Jerome had started to suspect something underhand, he had noticed Jeremiah had been jumpier, wound even tighter than his normal nervous self. He had on a few occasions walked in on his mother and brother whispering watching them halt instantly at his arrival, he brushed it off, assuming they were trying to mess with him and he couldn't care less about their stupid little secret.

After a particularly hard day shovelling dung Jerome arrives home late, mustering just enough energy to shower before collapsing into his bunk. Jeremiah appears at the doorway just as Jerome's lids are drooping heavy with exhaustion, the last image he sees is a dark gaze from Jeremiah, something unsettling in his eyes. That night Jerome dreams of his brother's face, a black stare of fear and hatred holding a violent secret, demons lurk in the shadows reaching out they pull him back into the darkness, he feels himself being engulfed in black flames. The dream feels so real, the burning smell so true overwhelms Jerome's nose surging into his lungs, he can feel the soot of the smoke making him cough.

Jerome wakes coughing, but the smoke has not disappeared, in fact it fills the tiny bedroom, and the heat is there coming up from the bunk below. Jerome rolls off his bed still half asleep, he falls to the floor the blanket of the bottom bunk is on fire. Jerome reacts immediately batting the flames and folding the blanket in on itself to put the fire out, he pulls at the sheets in search of a body but the bed is empty. Turning he sees Jeremiah tucked motionless against the wall watching him, the darkness of his thoughts spread evilly across his face.

"What the hell Jeremiah?" Jerome shouts, picking himself up from the smouldering ashes he marches to his brother gripping him tight by the throat he thrusts his head into the wall, almost knocking his glasses from his face.

"What's going on?" Lila bursts through the narrow bedroom door with a stagger, she is dressed in a green kimono that hangs open revealing a black silk nightdress, she looks at the scene, the burnt bed still smoking, Jerome holding Jeremiah threateningly against the wall.

"What have you done? Get away from him Jerome!" Lila spits her words, she grabs Jerome by the scruff of his neck and drags him into the corridor, he falls against the wall as she continues to pull him down the length of the caravan. Pulled off balance he stumbles and finally loses his footing as Lila thrusts him out of the main door, he drops out onto the dirt below face planting hard.

"Lila...wait, I didn't do this...Mom, please" Jerome holds up his hands from the ground below pleadingly, but Lila ignores his denials stepping out of the caravan she approaches and begins to hit her son repeatedly while shouting inaudible angry accusations. The attack is brutal, viscous smacks land hard and Jerome can all but block his face as he waits for his mother to tire.

"You are evil Jerome! How could you? My sweet Jeremiah...you pathetic, jealous shit! I'm gonna kill you!" Lila eventually exhausts herself and pushes Jerome down further and spits in his face, Jeremiah grabs her and pulls her back a little.

"Look Mom, I found it in his bed"

His eyes look remorseful but hardened.

Jeremiah thrusts Jerome's diary into their mothers trembling hands, open on the page about him.

"Look, he writes about wanting to burn me alive right there, he's been planning this, he wants to hurt me Mom." Jeremiah acts the scared innocent sheep so well, Jerome has to admire his dedication and the little act seems to be enough to convince Lila.

"Get your uncle Jeremiah" Lila closes the book as she sends Jeremiah off into the night. She approaches Jerome still knelt on the floor, holding out the diary she bends to look her son straight in the eyes, "You are sick, I always knew it but now I have proof. I will never let you hurt him, I'm going to be watching you from now on, we are going to have to teach you a lesson, you need to be punished Jerome."

Jerome could have argued, pleaded his innocence more and explained Jeremiah's little set up but he knew there was no point, Lila had made up her mind a long time ago and nothing he could say would ever convince her that he was worth anything. At least Jeremiah might benefit, sneaky coward.

He waited on the ground un-reactive, he knew what was coming for him and Uncle Zak did not disappoint. That night he received the beating of his life. The noise had woken most of the camp causing a somber crowd to form, Jerome would remember those staring faces for a long time. All gathering in the night to witness his punishment, not one inclined to stop the violent trouncing.

He had seen Mary Lloyd in the crowd, tears running down her face in sympathy but she was just a child herself, no one was going to help him, not now, not ever.

————————————————

Mr Cisero's trailer had a dim calmness, the old red velvet curtains blocked out most of the light and the wooden walls of the traditional circus trailer filled the dusty air with musk that mixed with the incense burning on the table. Jerome lies on the tattered leather couch Mr Cisero had offered to him after the beating. He was an elderly blind man, the resident fortune teller, he had always been somewhat different to Jerome. Apathetic, to be sure, but not necessarily cruel.

Jerome's face is purple and swollen, his ribs ache under his clothes, he lies in the dreary light staring at the ceiling. He can hear the familiar sound of animals being loaded and tent poles being thrown onto the trucks, their stay at Gotham was coming to a close.

Jerome had being staying with Mr Cisero for two days and had barely moved, the old man had brought him pain killers and left overs from meal times.

The latch on the door clunks to announce the old man's return, he clambers in using his cane for support closing the door behind him. His red glasses hide the milky eyes behind, he places his red felt hat on a peg to the side of the door before taking a seat on a small chair next to the couch. He carefully took his deck of playing cards from an ornate wooden box.

"I think it's time you spoke to your mother Jerome." The old man places each card carefully into the pack as he waits for a reaction.

Solitaire?

Ridiculous.

Why play a loner's game with company?

"Deal me some cards old man." Jerome shifts himself up dragging his broken body off the sofa to land hard down onto the stool opposite the fortune teller ignoring the original comment.

Mr Cisero sighs, he slowly takes a card off the top of the pack, "One card, then you have to go."

"What game has one card?"

The man ignores him and feels the pack of old worn cards with a familiar touch.

Then he places it before Jerome; a jester dancing around on the card.

The Joker.

Jerome begins to laugh, louder and louder until he theatrically laughs himself off of his chair clutching his painful ribs.

Cisero scoffs unimpressed and leaves the boy rolling around on the leather sofa.

Jerome calms his laughter gathering himself together to leave the trailer scooping up The Joker's card from the table as he does.

The light hurts his eyes as he jumps down from the wooden steps causing his busted eyes to pulsate as he squints, he can feel the extent of his wounds as he walks, his knee weak and ankle busted, his back aches with the deep bruising where Zak had landed some particularly vicious stomps. Hobbling through the camp like a wounded hunch back Jerome smiles and waves at the circus folk who gaze shamefully at him.

Each bows their head in embarrassment and pity pretending not to see the boys obvious taunts.

Approaching Lila's trailer Jerome can feel something is missing, an emptiness in the pit of his stomach starts to eat away at him, he knows it before he walks through the door, Jeremiah is gone.

He hurls his weak frame through the door, Lila is packing shiny outfits into a trunk, eyes are red where she has obviously been crying.

"Where is he?" Jerome shouts as his mother looks up.

"Gone, gone somewhere you can never hurt him!" She throws down the dress she is packing and storms into her bedroom slamming the door behind her.

Jerome sits himself down with a slump at the table, he contemplates the empty feeling inside his gut, he takes out the joker card placing it on the table, staring at the little picture. A tear runs down his bruised cheek.


	6. Ch6

They say that things come in threes; after the disappearance of Sadie and then Jeremiah it was only a few months before the Circus saw another loss, this one however could not have made Jerome happier. Uncle Zak had overseen Jeremiah's book keeping on behalf of the ringmaster for the last couple of years, and only when he vanished in the middle of the night did the ringmaster realise his betrayal. Jerome had overheard the leader of the Circus, a portly black man, angrily questioning his mother a few nights after Zak had left, Jerome had peeked around his bedroom door on hearing a commotion and saw him thrusting wads of accounts at his drunk mother.

"My brother is gone, I'm still here boss, what does that tell you? This is nothing to do with me." Lila pleaded her innocence casually whilst still sipping from her whiskey glass.

"And that boy of yours Lila, where's he? He did this, I trusted him and he's been skimming off the top for years for that useless cook." The ringmaster pointed to some numbers on the budget to which Lila shrugged nonchalant.

"Gone...and not coming back. I haven't got your money, I don't know where it is and I don't care. I've got enough on my plate raising my psycho spawn next door so I suggest you get out and leave us alone." Lila stumbles to the door spilling a little of her drink as she shows the ringmaster the exit.

The next few years in Haly's Circus had been a blur of habitual events, although Zak had gone Jerome had not escaped the violence. Alphonse often found reason to blame Jerome for some thing or another, costume damages or missing drinks each an excuse to dish out a beating always backed up by his clown brothers, Jerome suspected he was weary facing him alone since their encounter on the night Sadie left. When Alphonse wasn't around Lila had a mean right hook herself and a tirade of violent boyfriends and gentlemen callers all encouraged to help her 'keep the boy inline'.

Other than the beatings Jerome oozed through a cycle of shovelling dung, writing in his diary and avoiding his mother. It had gone like that each day until he had turned thirteen, one evening hidden away with the animals just backstage in the big top tent was where he discovered a new obsession.

Late one evening most of the Circus was silent everyone tucked up in their trailers or passed out somewhere, Jerome sits in his usual place under a single lamp leant against the elephant pen, a crack of golden light suddenly casts across the floor beside him illuminating the dust in the air, someone had turned on the ring lights.

Jerome stashes away his journal creeping silently to peer through the backstage curtain, watching as Mr Cisero walks into the centre of the ring placing a battered briefcase on a little table. Unlatching the clips he opens up the lid, one by one the blind old man takes out decorative throwing knives placing them carefully in front of the case, ten in total. Using his cane he hobbles over to the huge circular target, a large disc of wood with a white and red spiral painted on it. Wrist, waist and ankle straps hold a dummy made from old sacking stuffed with hay in place. The old man feels the outline of the dummy before heaving the disc by its edge with all his might causing it to spin.

Walking back to the table the old man places his red hat down into the briefcase, feeling along the table he selects the first knife passing it between his gloved hands feeling the weight and balance. Turning to the spinning target holding the knife buy the tip of the blade he throws it hitting perfectly between the head and arm of the dummy. He smiles to himself before gathering up the next 3 knives, in sequence he throws each knife, one, two, three, each hurtles into the wood with a thud missing the dummy each time.

"You gonna skulk around in the shadows all night boy? Or are you gonna come here and learn something?" The old man doesn't even look at Jerome, what would be the point with his sightless eyes darting uncontrolled at the ceiling of the tent.

Jerome steps out and moves to the old psychic, looking at the knives on the table he reaches out to touch one, a wrack to his knuckles with the brass head of the old man's cane stopping him before he makes contact, he holds out a pair of white leather gloves.

"If you like knives it's always an idea to wear gloves my boy. Protection and style." Jerome takes the gloves and places them on flexing his fingers to tighten the fit admiring the look on his hands as he does. Mr Cisero leans his cane aside and wafts his hand over the knives indicating Jerome to take one.

Jerome picks up a knife, as does the old man, Mr Cisero feels the weight then places the knife across his finger allowing it to balance perfectly, Jerome watches intently as the blade glimmers in the dim light and then copies eagerly. Mr Cisero holds the knife by the blade tip and shows a slow motion movement taking the knife from beside his head to full are extension holding it out in front of him, Jerome mirrors the movement watching carefully. Mr Cisero pulls the knife back one last time and pauses, listening to the turn of the big wooden wheel, then releases hitting the wood between the legs of the dummy.

Mr Cisero bows and steps to the side with his arm out to welcome Jerome to have a try. Jerome steps into position and practices the movement a few times, he watches the wheel spin then hurtles his knife at the target hitting the wood beside the head of the dummy with a thud. Mr Cisero claps his hands together smiling with approval, Jerome frowns and kicks the dirt.

"Something wrong boy? That was a perfect shot. You hit the target on your first try, think you should be pleased." Mr Cisero asks perplexed.

"I was aiming for the head." Jerome replies, the old man coughs a little to show his discomfort.

"I've got to go for a little while, why don't you keep practicing." The old man picks up his red felt hat revealing a hatchet and a small revolver fastened into the lid of the briefcase, Jerome's face lights up.

"When do we get to play with those?" Jerome reaches out intrigued but Cisero snaps the lid shut making the boy pull his fingers back with a jolt.

"Those are for another day Jerome, let's see you master the knives first shall we?" Mr Cisero takes the case with him and leaves Jerome to practice. The boy takes a knife in his gloved hands and admires it, a small smile creeps across his adolescent face, a sense of joy he has not felt in a long time starts to grow in his stomach. He thinks back to the power he felt holding that little pocket knife to Alphonse's fat neck, he knows this is for him, the beauty of the blade the power of the damage it can do.

That evening Jerome practices and practices, knives bounce off the target or miss completely each time but he keeps going until his arm muscles ache and burn, each throw improving his aim just a fraction. He listens to the spin of the wheel, feels the heaviness of each knife blocking out everything else, the circus, his mother, his pitiful life and focuses only on his task. Jerome loses track of time losing himself into the joyful power of the knives until the morning sun pours in through the tent entrance, he throws one last knife, he hits the dummy clean in the face hay exploding out of the torn sacking, Jerome beams with pride, he knows then that he will become a master of the knives, no matter what it takes he will practice everyday and he will be an expert.


	7. Ch7

Jerome's fifteenth birthday went by unnoticed, not that he cared about that, but his birthday did indicate the Circus's imminent annual visit to Gotham, something that Jerome had learnt to look forward to each year. The obvious break from his mother as she disappeared into the city to party was always welcome but each year had brought another gift from the dank city. The Circus had kept a PO box with the Gotham Mail room for decades, each year the Ringmaster would retrieve a sack of backlogged mail for the members of the Circus something of no interest to Jerome until the Gotham stay after his eleventh birthday.

The day after their arrival to Gotham just after his eleventh birthday Mary Lloyd, Sadie's cousin had found Jerome with a pink envelope addressed to him, he had recognised the hand writing immediately, inside had been a handmade birthday card with a drawn picture of a clown with an arrow gruesomely impaling it's head. Sadie had inscribed a short letter in multicoloured pens, vague, no details of her whereabouts or clues just inconsequential information about TV shows she had watched, books she had read and music she had heard but Jerome read that card a hundred times. Each year since a single handmade birthday card with a similar picture of some sort of comical clown death and letter update had arrived much to Jerome's delight.

Now fifteen Jerome was doing his usual set up for the Gotham run, securing the animal pens and stocking up the feed stores, he worked fast as he had watched the Ringmaster lug the mail sack into his trailer earlier that day and was eagerly awaiting his annual card from Sadie.

Mary appears through the curtain leading out to the ring, she is already dressed in her clown costume ready for the first afternoon performance, Jerome pretends not to notice her but secretly he has already seen that she has no card in her hands and his stomach starts to fill with disappointment. The older pretty teenager comes to lean against a post near where Jerome moves hay with a pitchfork.

"I saw you the other night you know? I came back for my prop bag and I saw you." Jerome ignores her accusing tones continuing to move large chunks of hay into the elephant food trough, "You're good you know, is it just the knives you do? You are an amazing shot, much better than that poor excuse for a magician they've been paying."

"Knives, axe, tried some shitty magic tricks but mostly boring apart from the escape stuff, think that might come in useful one day ya know?" Jerome gives Mary a cheeky wink.

"Oh yeah? You expecting to be locked up at some point? Well I thought you were good, you should audition for a spot in the show." Mary un tucks an envelope from the back of her waist band handing it to Jerome, he stops shovelling and moves a little too close to Mary his face just inches away from hers as he clutches one side of the envelope.

"Not in it for the spotlight...Mary...not yet anyway, so maybe keep my hobbies to yourself yeah?" Jerome's manner is strangely threatening even with the Cheshire cat grin he is beaming at Mary, he snaps the card from her grip making her jump back with a squeak.

"Whatever Jerome, who am I going to tell anyway, do what you want." Mary shuffles out swiftly, Jerome remains static holding his card until she has completely disappeared. Only then does he run to his usual corner under the lamp sitting himself cross legged on the floor, he tears away the envelope and laughs loudly at the very artistic illustration of a fat clown being set alight with gasoline on the from a hose held by a skinny clown, Sadie's drawings have become very skilful and increasingly sadistic over the years, something Jerome alone would appreciate.

Inside is the usual multicoloured letter, this year it seems Sadie had been mostly into death metal and obscure electro and her fondness for horror films had continued. Jerome absorbs the information as he reads it through a few more times but something sets a bad taste in his mouth, something is wrong. Jerome looks at the page, it screams back at him, something is different, firstly there are three spelling mistakes, Sadie was smart, almost as smart as him and she never made mistakes, not in four years of letters had there been one grammatical error. Also the page just looked wrong, it reminded Jerome of one of Jeremiah's mazes for some reason, like something was out of place.

Jerome stares at the words, looks at the form of each word and the mistakes, there must be something he isn't seeing as his brain itches and jumps unsatisfied. That's it, the three mistakes spell out the word 'Red'. At this prompt Jerome's quick brain instantly reads the letter differently, only reading the letters written in red ink ignoring all other elements with ease.

LAST SHOW COME GET ME NARROWS FIND PENNY PIECE

Jerome made sure he had deciphered the coded message correctly reading it again and again, but it was the same each time, clever little Sadie. He thought about the instructions and made sure he had it clear in his mind before noting it down in his journal. It seemed clear enough, on the last Gotham show he would go to the Narrows in Gotham and find Penny Piece, whatever that meant, and he would find Sadie.

The Gotham run had been the longest three weeks of Jerome's life, he had felt the letter burning in his back pocket everyday as he had agonisingly waited for the final day of shows. He had even managed to avoid provoking Lila leaving her to her comedown preferring to plan for his trip to the Narrows. Jerome had heard about this infamous area of Gotham City, a place of slums and depraved dregs of society, dangerous and unforgiving. He therefore thought it a good idea to be prepared, he had practiced with his knives and packed up a few to take with him along with some of his other tricks, just in case.

Finally the final show day had arrived, the Circus was a commotion, take-down had already began as the Circus was due in the next city the following day meaning a night move was needed, most things were already packed up and loaded as the final crowd was bustled into the big top tent. Jerome was able to sneak out easily mingling through the crowds.

He headed straight for the bus station as the sun began to set, he accosted a large man with a moustache and blue bus drivers uniform when he arrived.

"Hey, which bus goes to the Narrows? I can't find it." Jerome asks slightly frustrated.

"Ha ha ha." The driver laughs a hearty guffaw, "Son, the buses don't go to that shit hole, they'd come back with no tires, ha ha ha." The man continues to laugh much to Jerome's annoyance.

"Well I need to get there." Jerome's anger seethes just below the surface, but he just manages to remain calm waiting for a response as the man calms himself down.

"Well lad, you'll have to walk it, take this main street for ten blocks and then left on seventh, follow that all the way down till you see the power plant and the Narrows sits next to the dumping ground, but take it from me it's not worth the visit." The man walks off still chuckling to himself.

The walk doesn't bother Jerome, he takes the opportunity to examine the buildings and different areas of Gotham, he can't help but enjoy the sense of depravation the city exudes, dirty streets and sorrowful faces around every corner.

He can sense that he is approaching the Narrows, he can feel the desperation in the air as more and more buildings are boarded up and a greater number of the people that pass him are either homeless or drug addled. He passes the power station holding his breath past the stench of the waste dump, he turns into a main looking street, the dirty buildings are run down and crumbling and the street littered with garbage but there seems to be a number of bars and the odd shop, mainly pawn and gun shops with iron bars cladding the exteriors. Jerome walks slowly, not sure what he is looking for, Penny Piece, could be a shop, a road name, a bar or anything, so he keeps his eyes peeled. He asks a few people if they know of a Penny Piece but is mostly ignored or told to get lost.

He walks past a bar, The Old Duke, just as a man is thrust out of the door by a huge thug sporting a wealth of prison tattoos and an eyebrow ring. The ejected man is obviously drunk and rolls around on the floor outside laughing as the door slams closed. Jerome walks over to stand above the man, he is unshaven, a layer of grime on his skin from a prolonged period of not washing, his clothes are torn and filthy and he has quite obviously urinated all over himself adding to a pre-existing stench.

"What you looking at kid." The man spits a little blood from his mouth and tries to get up falling back down hard.

Jerome helps him to a sitting position, "You know what Penny Piece is?" Jerome asks hopeful.

"What you want her for?" The man pulls out a crumpled cigarette from his jacket pocket and feebly tries to light it but gives up.

"She's a person? Where is she?" Jerome takes the lighter and lights the cigarette for the man "I really need to know."

"She'll be down on the corner of Olga square, you know with the other whores." The man snickers and coughs through cigarette smoke pointing down the road.

"Thanks." Jerome leaves the man in his own filth and heads in the direction he indicated.

The road leads down past more run down bars, the ghostly faces of the homeless huddle around trashcan fires as the cold of the night starts to set in. The street opens out into an old square, the centre seems to be some sort of communal dump with huge piles of garbage and old shopping trolleys abandoned carelessly. Shady characters skulk in the shadows and Jerome is offered drugs multiple times as he works his way around the outer edge of the square.

Across the square a group of women are gathered, all scantily clad in miniskirts and fishnets, each tottering around on battered heels, tattered hair extensions tangling in the breeze.

Jerome is not threatened by the prostitutes, he has always been quite confident around those types of women, his mother knocked that out of him years ago. He walks straight up to a group of three women, two older more haggard looking and one only a year or so his senior, they all wear thick black eyeliner and crimson red lipstick, they have the odour of cheap perfume and cigarettes.

"Well hello handsome." One of the two older women lurches towards him with a sway, Jerome can smell the liquor and rot on her breath.

She reaches out a nicotine stained finger tipped with a broken false nail and strokes it gently down his freckled cheek. Jerome smiles his most charming grin, meeting the woman's hazy eyes with false warmth.

"I'm looking for someone in particular tonight, do you know Penny?" He holds his charismatic grin drawing the woman into his gaze.

She huffs taking back her claw with a shoulder shrug.

"Penny Piece? What ya want that no good piece of trash for?" The woman lights a cigarette and stomps away "You got no taste."

"Penny aint welcome on the corner no more." The younger girl half whispers to Jerome, she seems meek compared to the other girls, slim, pale somewhat shy.

"You know where she is?" Jerome asks.

The young girl grips his arm and pulls him over to a mesh fence out of ear shot of the other women; Jerome can see the sadness in her eyes, the make-up fails to disguise it. "Why do you want her? You don't seem like you are here for the usual reasons, don't think you need to be. Is it her girl?"

Jerome feels a sudden surge of excitement, a girl, could it be Sadie? His reaction must have been obvious as the girl smiles a little at him and takes him by the arm again and leads him quickly down an alleyway. She doesn't stop until they are out of site of the corner and completely alone.

"Are you going to help her?" She looks pleadingly at Jerome.

"Yeah, I think I am, where are they?" Jerome tries to look confident.

"Young girls don't stay young girls very long in the Narrows, you should get her out of here. I seen Penny working Jepson last week, it's down there two blocks, most of the girls that work that corner stay in the old factory building down there, it's Ziggy's patch and he's a nasty piece of work so watch out." The girl looks sheepish but puts her hand out, she puts her head down looking awkward.

"Well you gotta give me something, I can't take a guy down an alley and come back empty handed."

Jerome rifles through his pockets and hands her a wad of notes, she nods and leaves him in darkness.


	8. Ch8

The women on the corner of Jepson were different to those working Olga square, they didn't wear heels or make-up, some were in stained dresses but most looked dishevelled homeless, their heavy set eyes and sunken cheek bones a clear indication of severe drug dependency and malnutrition. The area itself was the most run-down Jerome had seen so far, comatose bodies were laid about in doorways, smashed glass and used needles seemed to carpet the pavements and the stench in the air was suffocating a mixture of garbage and stale urine.

Jerome pulls up his hood and creeps into a doorway stepping over a shallow breathing body with a pipe still clutched into one hand. He has a good view of the group of women and the factory building on the far side of the street from his position.

He studies the women, each one a clear depiction of rock bottom, each face a lost soul. It's pathetic.

One women stands out, early thirties, painfully slim, but it is her hair that draws Jerome's attention, the blonde tone of her messy bun a signal shining out through the grease and dirt, although filthy it is the exact white blonde that Jerome remembered of Sadie's messy mop. He watches her for a while and his suspicions are confirmed when a man shouts her by name from across the street 'Penny!', it's her, it's Sadie's mother.

Jerome watches Penny disappear with the man into a side street returning some thirty minutes later tucking some cash into the pocket of her dirty jeans. She hurries down the street towards the old factory building and Jerome finally leaves his position in pursuit. He follows the women into the building keeping enough distance not to be noticed.

Penny climbs to the first floor and knocks on a battered door coated in graffiti, when no one answers Penny starts to hammer on the door with her trembling fist, her whole body fidgets with the desperation of addiction. Finally the door swings open, a scrawny shirtless man stands inside, his pale grey skin adorned with scars and homemade tattoos. The man holds out his skeletal fingers taking a handful of screwed up notes from Penny and throws a baggy at her slamming the door in her face. Penny scrambles on the floor retrieving the baggy clutching it tightly as she ascends the stairs further into the building.

Jerome tracks her to a door on the third floor, he hangs back on the stairs until Penny has vanished in to the apartment, he moves to just outside and listens at the door. Inside he hears muffled voices, Penny and a male, they begin to shout and soon objects are being thrown until a stereo is turned on and heavy music blasts. Jerome waits and waits until the voices have stopped, the music still blasts covering the noise of him pushing down the handle and the click as the door is released. He pushes a little, just enough to allow him to peek around the door, it opens into a little dark hallway, exactly as Jerome had hoped.

Jerome squeezes through opening the door as little as possible and gently presses the door closed behind him keeping his body tight against the wall. The hallway is narrow and the lights are broken, this will help him he thinks, at the end of the short corridor is a dank looking kitchen, dirty pots and pans piled high, he can smell the rotting food from the front door. There are two doors on each side of the small hallway, he hears a dripping from the first on the right so determines that must be the bathroom, the second on the right is closed and a heavy padlock hangs holding the door securely shut.

The music blasts from the last door on the left.

Jerome creeps past the first door on the left, he flashes a quick look into the half open room, a stained mattress covers most of the floor, a thread bare blanket slumped at the bottom, the minimal remaining floor space is littered with ashtrays, old beer cans and the odd needle. Jerome stands back pressed against the wall next to the last door, slowly he angles himself to look through a gap as the door stands slightly ajar.

Inside is a living room of sorts, a battered old couch, a couple of beer crates upturned are being used as a coffee table and the stereo sits in the corner blasting away under a small lamp with no shade, the bare bulb the only light in the room. Penny is strewn across one side of the sofa passed out, the needle still stuck in her arm. A dishevelled male lies next to her, he is wearing a ripped T-shirt and stained grey sweatpants, he also seems to be passed out, he dribbles from the corner of his mouth into his dirty stubble. Jerome knocks the door just an inch releasing a loud creak, he grimaces waiting for a body to move but nothing happens, the pair just lay there motionless. He releases a sigh of relief as he scans the room, there is very little decor, just cracks in the plaster and a few old blankets pegged up as curtains. There are CD's littered around the floor and lots of rubbish everywhere, then Jerome spots it, a sign, hanging out of an old pile of magazines next to the sofa is a drawing, a clown.

Jerome braves a further move into the room but he doesn't find what he is looking for, Sadie is not there.

He turns and looks at the locked door behind him, he contemplates why there may be a lock on the door and anger starts to build within him. With light feet he edges across to the door, kneeling down he tries to look under but the room is dark inside, he knocks lightly whipping back to make sure Penny and her friend have not stirred. He knocks again just a little louder.

"Sadie?" He whispers into the wood of the door.

"Sadie are you in there?"

"Jerome?" A weak voice crackles barely audible above the music next door.

Jerome gets out a lock picking set from his pocket and quickly starts work on the padlock, he wiggles and pulls the little tools until he hears a click, the heavy padlock releases with a loud clunk as it hits the wood of the door frame. Jerome looks round, he sees the man's leg twitch a little through the crack in the living room door but he seems to still himself once more.

Jerome carefully removes the padlock and places it on to the floor, he pulls open the metal latch and pushes the door open casting a rectangle of dim light into the dark little room.

The room is very small with no windows, a pile of old blankets for some sort of bed, but not much else makes this a bedroom. A slim figure sits motionless huddled against the wall, skinny white legs pulled into her chest scraggy hair cascading over her knees as her head rests face buried, she weakly lifts her raggedy mop and Jerome sees her face for the first time in five years, it's Sadie.

Her pale skin is dirty and her expression is pained, she starts to uncurl from her seated position and her discomfort is obvious as she winces and staggers getting to her feet slowly using the wall for support. Jerome goes to her aid but she bats him away.

"I'm fine Jerome, let's just go." Sadie starts to speed up as her joints and muscles warm up, she scurries about in the blankets retrieving items and stuffing them into the old suitcase Jerome remembers from the circus, he chortles a little at the sight of it. Sadie pulls on a pair of army boots and throws on her old leather jacket that fits her much better now her frame has filled out a little.

She pushes past Jerome as he still stands in the doorway and marches for the exit, Jerome falls in line after her, she wears cut off denim shorts and a loose crop top made from a ripped up Queen shirt under her Jacket allowing Jerome to see every bruise on her ivory skin as she passes him, a detailed story of what her life is like.

Sadie reaches the front door going to push the handle down but before she has chance to walk through to her freedom a shout forces her to freeze in fear.

"Hey! Where'd ya think your goin slut!" The trampy man from the sofa is stood in the hallway outside the living room, a gun hangs loosely in his right hand "And whose this? She's mine kid, so you best just make off."

Sadie stands paralysed, unable to turn and face the man, Jerome's skin prickles with adrenaline as he can feel Sadie's hate and fear emanating from her fragile body, he senses her tensed muscles and panicked breathing. The young redhead turns with cockiness, a huge grin upon his face, he opens his arms wide and takes an elaborate bow allowing him to flick the knife hidden up his sleeve discreetly into his hand, keeping his hand turned to shield the weapon he straightens up.

"I'm Jerome Valeska, and who are you?" He asks with defiance, the man laughs with an over confidence obviously designed to unsettle.

"Ziggy, I'm Ziggy and this is my place, I'm the King around here you see, it's my building and I own everything and everyone in it you see? And Sadie there... well she lives here and so she's mine too." Ziggy rubs his face using the pistol hand with false ease "So I suggest you just send her back over here and go find your Mommy."

Jerome smiles even wider, he squeezes the knife tight in his grip helping to fuel his confidence as he speaks. "Sadie doesn't live here anymore...Zigg-y." He allows his disrespect to be obvious beyond a doubt as he spits the name.

Ziggy laughs sarcastically moving suddenly to point the gun at Jerome, but Jerome's senses are sharp and he has been waiting for this action, before Ziggy's arm has time to fully extend Jerome has hurtled the hidden blade. Ziggy screams as the knife lodges itself firmly into his wrist with a satisfying slicing sound, he drops the gun and clutches at the wound as blood starts to flow through his fingers. Jerome bursts out laughing, manically he dances up to Ziggy with gleeful skips as Ziggy struggles with the wound.

Jerome tuts and grabs Ziggy's injured arm forcing the man to cry out in pain and drop down to his knees. Jerome mercilessly rips the blade from the wound, forcing another shriek from Ziggy. Jerome keeps a tight clasp around the wound making his victim compliant as he wipes the blood from his knife on the shoulder of Ziggy's ripped T-shirt. The boy then pulls the arm backwards lowering Ziggy even more as he holds the blade up to the man's throat.

"Give me a reason to kill you Ziggy, I've just been waiting for a reason to really hurt someone." Jerome is looking straight into Ziggy's eyes and the whimpering man sees he is speaking truth, pure evil lurking in the deep pupils of the boys green eyes. This boy is not afraid, not of Ziggy, not of violence or death, Ziggy realises in this instance that he can't threaten or scare him. This boy has nothing at all to lose.

"Fine, take her, she's a waste of space anyway, good riddance, little psycho!" Ziggy tries to achieve some sort of dignity in his surrender, but Jerome just laughs and releases the man allowing him to slump into a bloody mess on the floor.

With that Jerome is satisfied and turns to leave, Sadie has moved from the door and is close behind him at this point, a look of shock on her face as she stares at Ziggy the defeated mess on the floor, Jerome simply winks at her with a smug raise of his shoulders and takes her by the hand leading her swiftly out of the apartment and into the night.


	9. Ch9

The cool night air flows through Jerome's floppy red hair as he runs, the thud of each pound on the pavement vibrating into his aching joints, but he keeps going sprinting until his lungs burn and his heart pounds. The dark streets and dim lit windows rush past as Jerome drags Sadie by the hand through the Narrows, her suitcase bashing about behind her, only when the old waste dump is far behind them does Jerome slow and stop. Bending he leans on a dirty wall panting heavily, he releases his grip. Sadie joins him sitting with a slump on top of her suitcase, leaning to rest her back on the wall.

As he begins to get his breath back Jerome is filled with adrenaline, his entire body tingles with a pulsating fire, he starts to laugh and jump about punching the air and 'whooping' madly to himself unable to contain his excited energy, Sadie still panting looks up at him bemused.

"Oh Sadie, what a rush! Did you see his face? Did you hear the knife go in? Smell the blood? It was divine, I... I feel amazing!" Jerome growls with an uncontrollable glee admiring his own skilled hands. Sadie pulls herself up, her petite features narrow examining her delighted friend as he dances about, not judging just watching intently.

"Thanks... I...I wasn't sure you'd come." Sadie hangs her head a little.

"Come on, we gotta get back before Haly's leaves town, you ready for a bit more running?" Jerome ignores Sadie's worn out demeanour and comically begins to limber up, fast running on the spot and stretching. Sadie shoots him a little amused smile and nods.

Jerome takes her hand and her suitcase and they run into the night towards the Circus.

It is past midnight when Jerome and Sadie reach the circus sight, all the wagons are loaded and trailers hooked up, the bigger trucks have started to leave the site as the final bits are battened down on the performer carriages. Jerome pushes Sadie into the undergrowth and squats down just before they reach the main clearing.

"You wanna find your Dad?" Jerome asks. Sadie shakes her head, "Not tonight."

"Lila is gonna be pissed I missed pack down so you better sneak into our trailer while I distract her." Jerome points across the field to where Lila is securing the snake box that fits below their trailer. "Wait until I have her attention and just get in and go to my room, OK?"

Sadie nods in understanding and gets herself ready clutching her suitcase.

"It's good to have a partner in crime again, love." He snickers before half running towards his mother, slowing to a casual saunter as he gets close. He waves Sadie to go towards the back as he draws his mother's attention with a loud clap, he leans casually towards the front where their trailer is attached to a rusty old truck, a smirk plastered across his face.

"Where the hell have you been? The Ring Master's had my ass." Lila Fumes banging the snake case shut.

"Well who hasn't Lila?" Jerome jests.

"You shit! How dare you?" Lila lurches at Jerome and slaps him hard around the face, he does not budge and just laughs. Sadie sneaks to the door and he watches her slip inside over his mother's shoulder as she grabs a clump of his hair viciously dragging him to her. He holds his smirk as long as possible as his hair rips and burns in his mothers cruel twisting fingers. She lands a second harder slap across his face and he finally submits, raising his hands in surrender.

"Sorry, sorry, I'll ride up back, I'll sort it with the Ring Master tomorrow Lila, I'm sorry alright." Lila reluctantly releases her grip, teeth still gritted in anger, Jerome jerks away and scurries to the trailer door disappearing inside.

Jerome hears the truck engine roar into action as he reaches his bedroom door, the trailer lurches as he swings into the little room he and Jeremiah used to share. Sadie is huddled on the bottom bunk; she shakes a little even though the room is warm. Jerome goes to pull himself onto the top bunk, a hand stretches out grabbing at his leg, looking up Sadie's sad little face pleads all sorts of requests that Jerome doesn't quite understand.

She takes his hand and pulls him down into the bottom bunk.

He shifts in silently behind her on the bunk and they lie down, Sadie curls into a tight little ball, Jerome bends his body all around her as she pulls his arm over herself and pulls the little blanket over them both.

They lie there still and silent bodies pressed together, Sadie finally stops shaking, Jerome watches tears silently roll down her pale cheeks until her body gives in to exhaustion and she falls asleep. Jerome holds his friend tighter, he knows she needs to feel safe right now and he can't help but enjoy the closeness, the softness of her bruised skin on his and the scent of her hair. He starts to feel things he thought had completely shut off within him.

He needed another person...he'd missed her. He'd missed Jeremiah.

He realizes he doesn't like to be alone.

The night takes hold as the trailer rumbles down the highway in a calming rhythm, as Jerome holds his sleeping Sadie his mind wanders back to Ziggy and his body surges with a relived excitement, he falls to sleep dreaming of the thrill of his actions, the intoxicating power he felt as the knife sliced through Ziggy's flesh, he felt alive for the first time in five years. Sadie had set him free from the monotonous prison he created in his own mind, a prison where he had locked away all of his impulses both emotional and violent. The prison had helped him survive this vile place all alone but Sadie was here now and he knew things were about to change.


	10. Ch10

Jerome wakes to the sound of his bedroom door sliding open, his mother stands there slouched against the doorframe, a distasteful scowl on her face as she casts her blood shot eyes across Jerome and Sadie's coiled figures.

"So that's where you were then, skimming through the gutters for trash." Lila laughs bitterly at her own joke, "I'm having the day off, you and your little tart can do all the set up today, seem as you skipped out last night." Jerome's mother lights a cigarette as she skulks away.

Jerome waits until he hears the slide and clicking shut of her bedroom door before he begins to move.

Sadie is motionless beneath his arm tucked into a tiny tight ball, exhaustion still has her, Jerome shimmies carefully down the bed and slides out from under the blanket pulling it slightly from the sleeping girl. He turns to place the blanket back, hesitating he looks at Sadie's sleeping form.

In the morning light he can now see the extent of her bruises, her arms and legs are mottled black and blue, Jerome can make out finger marks allowing him to imagine the sinister grip of Ziggy's putrid hands on her pale flesh. Jerome feels an ache as he realises his jaw is clenched hard, he feels a burning anger inside as he softly pulls the blanket back over Sadie's fragile frame. He can't help but move a stray tangle from her face with the lightest of touches, before he heads out of the room. He knew how that felt, the helplessness.

Jerome works hard all day, he sets up his mother's side show tent before joining the crew for the big top. Afterwards he'd unload all the animals.

He sweats and aches through his anger until the sun begins to set and the crowd begins to arrive for the opening night show. The golden light of the evening finally fades into black as Jerome strides back to the trailer.

Lila flings the trailer door open to meet him, she is dressed from head to toe in tight green metallic snake skin, a green turban perched on her dark curls, heavy make-up caked on her lined face. She stands blocking the entrance downing the last of a bottle of wine.

"Lazy shit is still in bed, another waste of space... you two are made for each other." The slurred words drip poisonously from Lila's lipstick coated mouth. Jerome edges to get past her but she shoots a hand across the doorway to block him. "You're gonna have to tell Alphonse she's back, and I don't think he's gonna be too pleased, pretty sure he'll take it out on his favourite ginger degenerate, well I hope he will." Lila cackles as she removes her arm and saunters off towards her performance tent with a stagger.

Sadie sits perched on the edge of the bottom bunk, Jerome's diary with the diamante ice cream cover sits beside her surrounded with the morbid clown cards Sadie had sent over the years, the original doodle he had snatched on the night she left was clutched tightly in her slender fingers.

"You missed me then?" She asked rhetorically putting the doodle back on the bed.

"You read my diary?" Jerome asks nonchalantly, clearly not bothered by the invasion of privacy.

"Couldn't help it, the human brain is so fascinating, inner thoughts and that, and your brain is extra twisted Jerome, I always knew that though. I could study you for years." Sadie speaks with true interest as she watches the him.

"Okay, then."

In the short silence that follows they both take the time to really look at each other. Five years changes people.

She eventually sighs and speaks.

"I'm going to freshen up. Then we gotta go see my Dad. After the show." Sadie grabs a towel from his drawer and walks out.

Jerome fries up some eggs and bacon, he can hear the little shower going in the tiny trailer bathroom, Sadie singing some high pitched riot girl anthem so it echoes through the kitchen. He chuckles to himself softly, what a freak.

The water stops as Jerome flips the food out onto two plates adorned with some buttered bread. The door slides open. Sadie steps out in a cloud of steam, hair soaking the back of her orange tank.

"Didn't know you could cook." Sadie says while she whips up a plate, shoving a piece of bread impatiently into her mouth. Sitting herself down at the kitchenette table she starts on the eggs.

Jerome raises a cheeky eyebrow but follows, shoveling in the food. He occasionally glances at the skin of Sadie's bare shoulders, but he's looking at the flesh more for the bruises.

He takes a longer look at a deeper darker bruise, hand shaped, that sits at the top of her narrow arm but Sadie catches him.

"What? What's wrong with you, it's just skin." Sadie bites at Jerome but he decides not to break his gaze.

"No. The bruises?" He asks with some foreign attempt at pity, dropping his eyes.

"Damn you, Jerome! Don't pretend you feel sorry for me! You can't pull that shit with me remember, we are the same. We don't have real emotions like normal people, just survival mechanisms." She spits at him. "I don't need pity from a Valeska anyway, I'd rather you were just a perve."

"I should have killed him Sadie."

Jerome feels a flicker of rage dart through his body.

"Yeah, maybe." Sadie shakes her head as they finish their food.

Sadie slips off returning wearing her leather jacket to hide the bruises and pulls her hair into a bun.

"Come on then, let's go see the old man." Jerome mumbles, apparently deep in thought.

With a poorly hidden shaky breath she steps out of the trailer, Jerome follows pulling on his jacket.


	11. Ch11

Jerome and Sadie wait in the shadows across from Alphonse's trailer, they watch as the portly clown staggers back from the mess tent, a bottle shrouded in a brown paper bag hangs loosely from his hand. He is still wearing his black clown suit with the red patches, make-up smeared down his stubbly face, a red wig sits askew on top of his head.

Alphonse slumps himself down on the steps of his trailer lighting a cigarette, he pulls off his wig tossing it to the ground and lowers his head into a shaky hand.

"He's so pathetic." Jerome whispers a hateful stare focused on the clown.

"I know, but he's my Dad." Sadie pats herself down and takes a deep breath, "You have to promise me, you can never hurt him Jerome, I mean it."

Jerome rolls his eyes dramatically with a huge sigh, "Fine, whatever, scouts honour." He makes a scout salute mockingly.

Sadie touches his shoulder in the darkness just for a second then she marches out towards the clown. Jerome watches from his hiding place as Sadie slowly approaches her father stopping in front of him. He wearily raises his head to take a drunken look at the figure before him, it takes him a moment to realise who it is as he sits there squinting through intoxicated eyes.

Jerome can't hear what the man says but he watches as he throws down his liquor letting it spill on the ground, tentatively he places his hand on Sadie's matted head, tears welling in his eyes as he grabs her tiny frame and pulls her tight to him, his shoulders shudder with sobs. Jerome knows a normal person would feel happy for Sadie at this warm welcome but Jerome can only feel hate towards the cantankerous old clown, and deep down the tiniest shudder of jealousy. His mother would never miss him this way, hell, she didn't even miss Jeremiah and she pretended to love him.

Jerome backs away deeper into the darkness leaving Sadie to her reunion. He wondered if Jeremiah knew that Jerome missed him more then Lila. Probably not. All of Haly's Circus was probably something he didn't even let exist in him anymore.

A few weeks pass by and Sadie is absorbed back into the Circus like she never left, Alphonse rejoices in her return for a short time but normal life takes hold quickly. Sadie is now part of the Clown troupe and as a trainee can often be seen running around doing the more menial chores, filling the props with fresh foam and sorting costumes back stage.

Jerome waits until all the performers have left the big top and the ring master has been round turning most of the outer lights off. He dances through the shadows towards a warm glow leaking out from behind the backstage curtain.

Inside racks of costumes are crammed in amongst dressing tables with those big mirrors bordered with lots of tiny bulbs, Jerome glides through feeling and stroking the sequinned and velvet fabrics dripping from the rails. Sadie sits cross legged on the floor sowing up a rather gaudy looking yellow and green checked jacket.

"Hey, you nearly ready to play?" Jerome asks with a glint in his devilish eyes.

"Yeah, just a sec, gotta finish this for Gonzo." Sadie finishes the last few stitches putting the jacket away on a rack. She is dressed in her clown outfit from the show, a tight red and black leotard with a puffy tutu all topped with an oversized jesters hat complete with bells.

"Looking good Sades" Jerome jests flirtatiously.

"Whatever Jerome, I kinda like it!" Sadie scowls.

"Whatever, it's your right to have bad taste I suppose." He gives her cheeky wink.

The pair walk out into the ring, Jerome flicks a leaver at the side and the ground illuminates with a clunk.

He swipes his briefcase from a hidden area under the wooden seats that encircle the ring and strides into the centre of the performance area with a twirl, Sadie stretches and cartwheels after him, her tutu bouncing comically as she lands with her arms outstretched.

Sadie prances over to the huge wheel and spins it with pointed toes and elaborate hand movements as Jerome lines up his knives on the table. He limbers up and begins to aim one of his blades at the spinning wheel.

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait." Sadie runs in front of the target waving her hands excitedly stopping Jerome just as he is about to release a blade, "I made you something."

Sadie runs back through the backstage curtain laughing , Jerome can hear her rustling through racks, she explodes back out into the ring clutching a red tailed ringmaster jacket and white leather jodhpurs, the ring masters hat sits balanced precariously on top of her own jester hat and a pair of riding boots dangle under her arm pit. The girl can't contain her joy as she thrusts the items at her friend.

"What do ya think? You like 'em? I modified the old coat from the ringmaster's skinnier days and the trousers and boots are back from that horse acrobatic show they used to do, but it's all tailored to your size, you know, lanky." Sadie waits with a longing grin on her face.

Jerome takes the coat and examines it, a smile appearing slowly then turning into an evil wide grin as he swings it on, it fits like a glove, admiring his red clad arms he puts the rest of the outfit on.

"It's perfect!" His eyes sparkle in the spotlights as he poses and prances with his knives, Sadie skips and jumps about in approval.

"So? You ready to try this for real? You better be good, I'm trusting you not to hit me." Sadie takes Jerome's arm to shake him back to reality.

"I don't know Sadie." He throws a knife at the wheel still spinning across the ring behind her, landing the blade right between the eyes of the marked out figure, "I might hurt you?" he pouts with a disingenuous frown.

Sadie laughs and dances off, stopping the wheel and beginning to fasten her ankles into the straps.

"Come and do my wrists!"

Jerome walks over cool as cucumber, somewhat strutting in his new outfit, he takes her wrist and slams it a little too hard into the wrist restraint, "You're crazy Sadie, think you like danger a little too much, not good for your health you know?" He tuts.

"Just do it." She tests her restraints, "Spin me then, and try not to kill me hey?"

Jerome chuckles, he heaves the wheel with a huge tug and Sadie begins to spin giggles escaping manically from her. Jerome lines up next to his knives and begins his act.

The teenage boy bows to the imaginary crowds and displays his knives, one, two, three glimmering in the light all fanned out beautifully between his gloved hands. He dances back and forth emphasising his aiming arm.

"Ready?" He asks with a sinister anticipation.

"READY!" Sadie squeaks with excitement.

Jerome shoots, one, two, three, bang, bang, bang, squeak, squeak, squeak each blade lands in the wood in-between Sadie's pale limbs causing her to yelp excitedly.

"Happy now?" Jerome bows.

"Do the blindfold!" Sadie shouts mid spin.

"You are one crazy kid, don't tempt me." Jerome laughs.

"DO IT! I dare you." Sadie shouts manically.

Jerome sighs defeated as he whips out the red silk blindfold from the briefcase taunting the empty audience with it. He wraps it tightly round his eyes and continues to conduct a comedy skit, facing the wrong way and pretending to fumble the knives. Just as he acts out feeling for the table he turns and throws three more blades blind at the wheel to the delighted screams of Sadie. They land either side of her head with millimetres to spare.

Jerome takes off the blindfold and admires his handy work, skipping happily to Sadie with an overinflated sense of pride he bows and curtsies to his nonexistent cheers from his make believe spectators. He slows and stops the wheel and releases Sadie, she falls into his arms and he can feel the adrenaline coursing through her body, a huge beaming smile plastered across her pale little face.

He was glad he could distract her. He wished Jeremiah was like her.

Sadie jumps up and down still hyped up, "Let me show you an act I've been working on now."

"I've seen you clowning Sadie, I watch you every night. Don't get me wrong you're good but I've seen it all, even that mime stuff you do, genius by the way." Jerome laughs out loud to himself.

Sadie leaps into mime mode and fakes being stuck in a glass box causing Jerome to howl with laughter, her big finale coming as she fake knocks herself out on the fake roof of the box collapsing spectacularly onto the ground.

"I know, I'm an amazing clown."

Sadie bats imaginary dirt from her shoulders as she scoops herself up.

"But, I have another act, me and Mary used to practice it with that boy she likes and she's been secretly showing me some new stuff since I got back. I can't believe how much I remembered, I'm a natural, wait here, I'll show you."

Sadie runs off and starts to climb up one of the two main tent poles that stretch high into the roof of the big top. She ascends higher and higher, climbing above the safety net taking the tiny ladder all the way up to the trapeze ledge. She takes the line and pulls the trapeze to herself leaning out precariously to grab the bar with her fingertips. Clutching with both hands she shoots a proud smile down to her ginger friend and jumps.

Jerome smirks as he watches, loving the scare that she might fall.

Sadie's body moves through the air, back and forth she gains momentum until she flies from one side to the other high above the ground. On the upswing she releases and summersaults beautifully through the air catching the second bar gracefully.

Jerome whoops and applauses mimicking a crowd sarcastically.

Sadie beams down at him as she flips upside down to dangle from her legs, arms outstretched to the sky. She swings a few more times before disconnecting allowing herself to fall into a turn, arms crossed over her front she lands flat in the safety net bouncing up and down a few times before rolling to sit on the side of the net.

Jerome drags her from her perch placing her in front of him.

"Well, well. Aren't you a little monkey."

They share a moment, looking deep into each other's eyes, not romance, not love, just bliss and freedom. Together Jerome can pretend he's not where he is, that his life isn't what it is. He smiles at his friend and they both comically bow to each other and then to the crowd accepting a wealth of imaginary applause.


End file.
